


flockmate

by one_go_alone



Series: corvus [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Demisexuality, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_go_alone/pseuds/one_go_alone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, they were more than friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 82.5 (Itachi)

**Author's Note:**

> These are scenes portraying a sexual/romantic relationship between Itachi and Kisame from corvus. I wrote them later and left them out of the main fic, because I felt the main fic worked best if it was gen, and so that anyone who likes them as friends but not as a pairing could avoid this part if they want to. I _do_ like this pairing, though, and feel there is not nearly as much of it as there should be, so I thought I'd go ahead and post these scenes in case anyone else likes it. ^_^;
> 
> I'm a little nervous about this one, actually, but I think they're both IC for how I've established them in corvus.
> 
> Many thanks, as always, to [leathansparrow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leathansparrow/pseuds/leathansparrow) for beta'ing. ^_^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, they were more than friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please read this between Scenes 82 and 83 of corvus.**

Two nights later, Itachi wakes hot and sweating from a dream he cannot remember. This in itself is not unusual, but tonight it is not due to his usual nightmares. Tonight, his sudden waking and discomfort are caused by arousal rather than fear. 

Surprise over something that is (for him) so rare wipes any lingering memory of the dream from his mind, so he cannot say what it is that has left him in this uncomfortable state. Frowning slightly, he rolls over, intending to go back to sleep. Bad enough that he loses so much sleep to his nightmares, but at least there is a reason for those. 

The movement causes his clothes to pull and press against his erection, and Itachi catches himself pulling in a sharp breath as a wave of not-unpleasant sensation washes over him. He frowns again, and grits his teeth against his body’s sudden wish to move like that again. The thought of Kisame asleep in the next bed helps to keep his body still, but the arousal does not abate. 

At last, Itachi rises and slips into the bathroom. He does this very rarely, but it seems that tonight it will be more efficient than ignoring the problem as he usually does. That can take time, and he is tired.

He deals with it quickly, quietly as always on these rare occasions and returns to bed. It is inevitable that it will happen sometimes, he reminds himself as he drifts back toward sleep, body relaxed. Now it should be a long while before it happens again.

~~~

A large, warm hand covers his right shoulder and Itachi starts, jerked out of his thoughts at the unexpected contact. 

“Sorry, Itachi-san,” Kisame says, pulling his hand back. “I called, but you’re thinking too hard again.”

Itachi sniffs a little at the grin in his partner’s voice, and looks up at him. “What is it?”

“I found that tournament we missed,” Kisame explains, returning to his bed and beckoning for Itachi to follow. 

Surprised, he does.

“You found it?” he repeats, questioning. “Where? I couldn’t find it.” One of the fighting tournaments they both enjoyed had taken place while they were out doing Akatsuki work, and they had both been unable to find a recording of it. Itachi had been especially disappointed since three of his favorite competitors had been at this particular tournament.

Kisame gives him another grin. “I dug around a little more. There are a few corners of the internet that even you don’t know about, Itachi-san.”

More than a few, in all likelihood, so Itachi shrugs, silently conceding the point.

“And I knew you really wanted to see this one,” Kisame concludes, settling himself. Itachi blinks at him, but also climbs onto the bed, curling up against the headboard next to the bigger man so that they can both see Kisame’s computer screen.

He expects such proximity to each other to be particularly uncomfortable in this heat, especially for the three or so hours it will take to watch the whole tournament.

It turns out to be not the least bit uncomfortable at all. Perhaps it is the revelation from the three days ago that they are something like friends, but Itachi finds it quite relaxing to sit next to Kisame, exchanging soft commentary when one of the competitors does something especially good or bad.

Kisame shifts a couple of hours later and ends up with his shoulder pressed against Itachi’s. Such casual contact between them is not common, but for some reason it doesn’t feel odd. Itachi just resettles himself and doesn’t bother to move away.

~~~

The following night, Itachi wakes again from the kind of dream that he shouldn’t have had again for _months_ , at the least. He is sweaty, hot and hard in a way that is difficult to ignore, making him grit his teeth as he tries to catch the retreating ends of the dream.

What little he can recall has him drawing in a breath against the renewed flare of want in his body: a strong muscled chest, rough hands on his skin, another erection pressed against his own.

It is not a revelation. He has known for years that to whatever extent he has a preference, it is for men. He has never given it much thought, and does not intend to start now.

Still breathing slowly, Itachi sits up in bed and, with a quick glance to make sure that Kisame is still asleep, presses his palms against his temples. Closing his eyes, he does his best to push both the dream and his unwanted arousal away.

He decides that indulging his body again is unnecessary, so he remains in bed, sitting back against the headboard. He forces himself to slowly review the hundred or more crow calls that he recognizes and understands. 

Eventually, it works and his arousal subsides. With an inaudible sigh for the vagaries of his body, Itachi lies down again and goes back to sleep.

~~~

“Did you not sleep well last night, Itachi-san?” Kisame asks the next day after Itachi has spent ten minutes frowning at the weather report that predicts another hot, dry day.

Realizing that he is petulantly thinking about how much he wants the heat to go away, Itachi grimaces. Then, taking a deep breath, he lifts his right shoulder in a shrug and allows his expression to smooth out.

“As well as usual,” he tells Kisame, closing the window on his computer and glancing over his shoulder in time to catch his partner’s sigh. ‘As well as usual’ meant that he had been awake for some part of the night. In this case, it could certainly have been worse, so Itachi shrugs again.  
“Let’s go out,” Kisame suggests then, getting up.

Itachi blinks at him. “Where? We agreed that there isn’t any point following any of the gangs until after dark-”

“Not for work,” Kisame clarifies. He is already pulling on his shoes, so Itachi closes his computer and gets up to do the same. Checking up on Sasuke and various enemies can wait a little while.

They both leave their coats behind, the thought of wearing the heavy garments in the soaring temperatures an unwelcome one. Going out at all is largely an unwelcome thought for Itachi, but it is good to see Whitewing and he trusts that Kisame has a reason for it. 

Six blocks later, they are standing in front of a small, hole-in-the-wall tea shop that Itachi hasn’t seen before.

“Found this place a week or so ago,” Kisame explains, “and thought you might like it.”

Itachi nods, indicating his willingness to try the new place. He hands Whitewing up to a nearby tree, and they go in. A quick glance at the menu reveals why Kisame thought this was a good place to come: all of the teas are iced. Normally cold teas are not Itachi’s favorite, but today it sounds wonderful. He nods again to Kisame in thanks, getting a sharp grin in return.

This particular shop’s iced tea turns out to be delicious, and Itachi’s mood improves considerably for the rest of the day. 

~~~

Itachi scowls down at his feet.

A stripe of purple nail polish adorns the skin of his right big toe, and unfortunately the glare does nothing to help remove it. For the third time that night, he cleans all of the nail polish off and prepares to start again. He has always hated this part of their “uniform,” if only because it is so utterly pointless, but it is the worst on days when he cannot get the stuff to go on neatly.

Usually it isn’t quite this much of a problem, but his hands are unreliable tonight. He isn’t sure why.

Mistakes removed, he reaches for the bottle of polish to try again, only to knock it off the bed entirely when he forgets that his peripheral vision is next to useless beyond the edge of his glasses. He allows a small noise of frustration to escape his throat, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. At least he had tightened the cap on it, so there is no mess. He really shouldn’t be getting this worked up about the nail polish in the first place. 

He opens his eyes to find that Kisame has silently come over and retrieved the bottle for him. 

“Let me, Itachi-san,” he says quietly, and sits down on the bed in front of Itachi. Startled, Itachi can only nod mutely and Kisame takes that as sufficient reply. 

Kisame’s large, rough-skinned hand cradles his foot, firm and gentle, and his eyes are intent upon Itachi’s toes as his other hand somehow maneuvers the small brush skillfully over Itachi’s nails. It would make Itachi even more frustrated with his own clumsiness if it weren’t entirely over-ridden by the strangeness of the moment. Of course Kisame manages his own nail polish all the time, but somehow the sight of him doing this has left Itachi’s mind at a little bit of a loss. 

Left foot done, quick and neat, Kisame gently sets it down on the bedspread and lifts Itachi’s right foot to repeat the procedure. 

Maybe it’s just that Kisame has never done anything like this before, Itachi thinks. Never offered. Never touched him, really, except for that hand on his shoulder when he needs it. Something about it feels different, but he can’t figure out what.

Even more strangely, the sight of Kisame’s hands on his feet working so quickly and efficiently drains away his frustration. By the time Kisame puts Itachi’s right foot down and asks, “All right?” Itachi can nod honestly and accept the bottle of nail polish back.

“Thank you,” he says quietly a moment later when Kisame has returned to the other side of the room, staring at his toes while the neatly-applied enamel dries.

“You’re welcome, Itachi-san,” Kisame replies.

Itachi stares at his feet until long after they are dry, trying to puzzle it out, and gets nowhere.

~~~

His sleep is restless that night, but this time due to his usual nightmares. Shisui’s shade stands empty-eyed in his mind, triggering once again his unease over this new understanding he has with Kisame. He rises early and goes out to spend the day with the crows, leaving his partner a note saying that he will be back by dinner.

He ignores the heat as best he can and follows Whitewing through her day. She gets on fairly well with the local crows despite being an outsider, and today Itachi helps all of them forage for food, drives off a vicious-looking stray cat, and buys some bottles of water to share with them. They chatter happily at him all day, and he lets himself absorb it, watching them interact with each other. They bicker and squabble, they help each other, preen each other, protect each other. 

They have close ties, friendly ties, family ties, and they are better for it. 

Itachi would be lying if he said there were never any days when he wished that he could be a crow rather than a human.

Today is one of those days.

He sits back in a shaded alley late that afternoon, breathing slowly as Whitewing preens his hair. He reminds himself that he is human, that the crows’ lives are not easier, just hard in different ways, and that there are things he must do. 

By the time the sun is starting to go down, he feels a little bit more centered again. His relationship with Kisame is what it is, he decides, and as the other man pointed out a week ago, they have managed thus far.

It is not as though much has really changed between them, Itachi reassures himself as he makes his way back through the sweltering streets towards the hotel. Kisame has perhaps been a little bit more open about it this week than he would have been before, but he would have found a way to do the same things anyway.

Itachi takes a few more deep breaths and reminds himself also that Kisame has already accepted the one thing that might have caused them to fight – Itachi’s true loyalties. With that danger past, he thinks that his mind really need not turn to Shisui anymore.

~~~

Later that night they are back in the hotel after dinner and a few hours watching the couple of transactions between the city’s gangs that Pain wanted them to keep an eye on. Thing were tense at those meetings but there was no trouble.

The tension seems to have followed them back to the hotel, though, and leaves Itachi frowning down at his latest book. He is sitting cross-legged on his bed, his damp hair loose and spread out over his back and shoulders to help it dry. Kisame is in the shower now, lingering as he often does when water is involved. 

His partner had seemed normal enough on the surface, but Itachi still felt some kind of tension humming in the air as he came out of the shower a little while ago. The feeling raises warnings in part of his mind, but he cannot actually sense any hostility in it. He continues to frown slightly down at his book, not really seeing the words. Kisame seemed mostly fine at dinner and through work, things only became a little strange after Itachi was done washing up, in those few moments before Kisame disappeared into the bathroom himself. He can’t think of anything he might have done or said that would have upset the other man, though, and doesn’t know what else the problem might be.

A cloud of cool steam precedes Kisame out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry and heading for his own bed on the far side of the room. Itachi decides that the best thing to do is probably just to ask his partner what the trouble is and get it out in the open.

He looks up as Kisame is crossing the room, and feels his voice die in his throat.

He has seen Kisame wet and mostly naked hundreds of times over the years they have been partners. Itachi has no idea why tonight is different from all the rest, but somehow it _is_.

Tonight, his eyes are suddenly wide behind his glasses as he watches Kisame stand by his bed, his thickly-muscled arms raised and flexing as he dries his hair. Itachi swallows, feeling much warmer than he did just a moment ago.

Kisame has not looked at him and his face is hidden by the towel, so there is nothing to urge Itachi’s eyes away from his partner’s body. His gaze tracks down the other man’s bare back from broad shoulders to the edge of his shorts slung just below his waistline. Itachi swallows again, feels his blood pounding heavily in his temples, his wrists, his arousal. 

His arousal…because he _is_ aroused. His dreams from earlier in the week come back to him, leave him voiceless again with the sudden knowledge that _Kisame_ is the one he wants, _Kisame’s_ strong body pressed against his, _Kisame’s_ large, rough hands on his skin, _Kisame’s_ -

He isn’t aware of making any noise but he must have because Kisame turns sharply to look at him, dropping the shirt he has just picked up at the sight of Itachi’s face.

They stare at each other in stunned silence. Itachi finds his thoughts hopelessly scattered, and doesn’t know how to pull them back together in the face of the realization that he _wants someone._ This has never happened to him before.

He swallows and unconsciously licks his lips, hoping to find his voice. Kisame’s eyes flick down to his tongue, his throat, before rising again to meet his gaze. 

Itachi’s thoughts scatter again under a wave of heat that accompanies the new realization that somehow, Kisame wants him too.

“Itachi-” Kisame’s voice is hesitant, hoarse with the desire that he can’t (or won’t) hide anymore. Itachi sits on his bed, his long thick hair falling loose around him, trembling with helpless want and the discordant knowledge that he has no idea _what_ he wants.

“Kisame,” He manages at last, his voice low and thick in his throat.

The other man draws in a sharp breath and crosses the distance between them in three quick strides, sinking onto the bed in front of Itachi, holding his gaze as he carefully reaches out to touch the loose strands of Itachi’s hair.

It is an offer, and for a very long moment, Itachi has no idea how to respond.

He has never had sex. He has never _wanted_ to have sex. He never imagined a situation where it could even come up, never thought that there might be a person with whom he was close enough and trusted enough to feel anything like desire. He has never wanted this.

He does now.

It may be surprise at that fact nearly as much as the desire itself that causes him to reach out in return, accepting Kisame’s offer with one hand pressed to the bluish-pale skin of the other man’s cheek.

Kisame’s eyes widen, as if he hadn’t been expecting Itachi to accept. A distant part of Itachi’s mind thinks that he shouldn’t do this, but the promise of rough hands against his aching skin has scattered his thoughts again and he cannot think why.

His dark eyes are still wide behind his glasses, but he meets Kisame’s yellow gaze steadily. His palm trembles slightly against his partner’s face, but he does not move it. 

Kisame’s eyes fall closed as he draws in a quick breath and lets it out again.

“Itachi,” he says again, voice low. He reaches out and slides both hands along Itachi’s jaw line and into his hair, tilting his head back. Kisame’s hands feel just as good (better) than Itachi imagined they would, and the other man’s mouth pressed against his throat a moment later feels better still. Itachi feels another sound leave his throat as Kisame’s hot, wet tongue traces his skin. 

Kisame growls in response and moves closer, deliberate but slow enough for Itachi to react. He lets Kisame do it, finding that his hands have moved of their own accord to clutch at Kisame’s shoulders and back, moving over the powerful muscles that had entranced him only moments before. They trace over warm skin, counting down Kisame’s backbone and feeling the rise and fall of his breath without conscious direction from Itachi.

That is probably for the best, because Itachi truly does not know what he is doing. He knows that being able to touch Kisame sends pleasant tingling warmth down his own spine, finds that the other man’s hands in his hair and mouth at his neck create longer, hotter waves of sensation, and feels his blood still pounding hot and hard through his erection. This feels good, and he wants more, but beyond that undefined need he is unsure. Kisame presses closer, pushing Itachi back, not far enough to lay down, but far enough that he must use his arms to support himself, forcing him to take his hands away from Kisame’s skin. His head falls back automatically, one of Kisame’s hands sliding deeper into his hair to support it, baring Itachi’s throat further. Itachi shudders at the delicate scrape of very sharp teeth against his sensitive skin, followed by the hot wetness of Kisame’s tongue.

The vulnerability of his position hits him hard in the next breath, and Itachi tenses, hands tightening in the covers. Kisame freezes instantly, drawing away enough to lift his head and look down at Itachi. They are both breathing hard, both aroused (a thought that threatens to send Itachi’s mind spinning again), and Itachi cannot find his voice.

“What do you want, Itachi?” Kisame asks, voice hoarse with want but not harsh. 

Itachi isn’t sure what his expression looks like in that moment, only knows that his eyes have gone wide again behind his glasses. Whatever Kisame sees must tell him something, though, because a realization seems to dawn in his eyes.

“Do you know what you want?” he asks then, softly. Itachi swallows and shakes his head mutely. 

“All right,” Kisame says, voice rough again. He pulls back and sits up, bringing Itachi with him. He drags large hands down Itachi’s sides and then up under his shirt, and Itachi finds himself arching into the sensation. He lets Kisame push the tank top up, and between them they get it off. Itachi’s skin aches even more for touch, and it makes it easier to forget the vulnerability.

“Here,” Kisame says, his fingers lightly gripping Itachi’s glasses. He waits for Itachi’s nod before sliding them off and rising to set them on the bedside table. He sits down again at the head of the bed, leaning back and beckoning for Itachi to join him. 

Itachi twists around to blink at him over one shoulder, his hair still a thick, loose curtain around his face. He cannot see Kisame as well now, without his glasses, so he untwists himself and turns, moving carefully to guard against the shift of his shorts over his erection and the sudden conviction that his movements are clumsy and uncoordinated. They aren’t, not really, even as he moves to kneel between Kisame’s legs, but it feels as though they are, the newness and uncertainty of the situation pressing at his awareness. His hands feel at a loss for where to be. 

“Turn around,” Kisame tells him, hands tracing hungrily over Itachi’s skin as they guide him around to sit between the other man’s legs, Kisame’s chest pressed against his back. He can feel the other man’s erection against him now, and bites his lip in uneasy pleasure, the first ideas of things that he might want stirring in his mind.

“All right?” Kisame asks, voice low, and nuzzles Itachi’s neck through the loose strands of his hair. Itachi nods a little, feeling more comfortable in this position and already distracted by Kisame’s hands starting to trace with maddening slowness up the inside of his thighs. 

Itachi swallows, and feels Kisame’s tongue hot against the side of his throat. His partner’s hands continue their slow journey, and Itachi finds his eyes riveted as rough fingertips and blunt nails drag along sensitive skin, taking the loose material of his shorts with them.

He shifts, panting, and finds that he has braced himself on Kisame’s legs where they rest slightly drawn up on either side of him. It helps to steady him a little as hot, shivering tingles shoot down his spine. It’s not enough to pull his eyes away from Kisame’s hands, though, so close to his arousal and not close enough. The bigger man lets his fingertips play over the skin of Itachi’s thighs, up and down now, lingering, and it makes Itachi shift restlessly again. He needs more than this, needs something, needs _friction_.

“Kisame,” he says, his voice sounding low and strange to his own ears, and feels the other man’s hips jerk against him. Shivering at the realization that he does have some control here, he says it again, deliberately letting his voice fall lower, “ _Kisame._ ”

The other man makes a choked groaning noise against his throat. “More?” he gets out a moment later, sounding as breathless as Itachi feels. He lifts his right hand to rub maddening little circles on Itachi’s stomach just above the waistband of his shorts.

“Yes,” Itachi growls, his hands tightening on Kisame’s legs. His hips jerk a little, involuntary but the pleasure has distanced his mind too much for him to care.

Kisame makes a noise of approval, and carefully slips his hand under Itachi’s shorts to wrap around his erection. 

Caught in the sensation of Kisame’s large, rough-skinned hand around him, stroking with utterly delicious friction, Itachi finds it impossible to be aware of anything else. The arch of his body, his hands braced against his partner’s legs, the noises that spill unchecked from his mouth, all fade under the growing pleasure and the knot of heat low in his belly. Even the prick of Kisame’s teeth in his shoulder is a minor note under the growing wave of heat that threatens to swamp him. 

It feels like forever and no time at all before the heat has coiled up too tightly, before the rough friction of Kisame’s hand on him is too much. The intensity of his orgasm (nothing like the past, _nothing_ ) effectively clears any remaining coherency from Itachi’s mind. His vision goes white, and then black.

When he opens his eyes a few long breaths later, it is to find himself wrapped in Kisame’s arms, his head fallen back on the other man’s left shoulder. His muscles feel like jelly, and he isn’t at all sure that he could move even if he wanted to. He is trembling, still panting for breath. His right shoulder stings. He is hot, sweaty, sticky, _messy_.

He feels _wonderful_.

“Kisame,” he says, voice hoarse and a bit weak. He feels more than hears the other man’s chuckle.

“Itachi,” Kisame says quietly, his right hand resting in the mess on Itachi’s stomach, his left wrapped supportively across Itachi’s chest. “You all right?”

“Yes,” Itachi says, because he is, if beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed again. He hadn’t known it could be like…well, like that. “It was…”

“Intense?” Kisame asks, and Itachi nods. He can think again, finally, but words to deal properly with this situation continue to escape him. He feels his heartbeat begin to calm, though, and lets his breath even out as best he can.

“Good,” Kisame says, his voice low, and Itachi shivers pleasantly at the sensation that provokes.

He moves then, but stops with slightly wide eyes when he realizes that Kisame is still hard. “Kisame, you-” He sits up, ignoring the sticky mess on his stomach, and twists so that he can look at his partner properly. 

Kisame’s gaze traces up the spill of long dark hair over Itachi’s shoulder and back, and meets his eyes with a calm that Itachi isn’t sure he can match. At least this close, he can see Kisame’s features clearly even without his glasses on.

“Whatever you feel like,” Kisame says, “or nothing. I can take care of it myself.”

Itachi frowns a little at that. He might not be feeling too sure of himself, but of course he can do _something_.

He puts a hand on Kisame’s chest, and says “No, I-” his eyes drop to the other man’s still-clothed erection and he finishes in a whisper, “I want to.”

A groan vibrates Kisame’s chest under his hand, and Itachi drags his gaze up again to find that the other man has shut his eyes, sharp teeth biting at his lower lip and drawing beads of blood. “All right.”

Itachi bites his own lip against something he suspects might be a smile, and finishes turning around so that he can use both hands to pull Kisame’s shorts down. His mind and hands stutter again briefly over the sight of Kisame’s arousal, red and hard, but then his fingers are moving almost of their own accord to touch it. It is strange, to touch another man this way when he has only ever touched himself, and that only rarely. His fingers trail along his partner’s erection, exploring, better able to pay attention to how it feels than when he touches himself, for there is less sensation to distract him.

“Itachi,” Kisame rasps, a note of something that must be very close to pleading in his voice. It is not something Itachi has ever heard from the other man before.

He darts a glance up at his partner’s face and is subject to a flash of heat and wonder that _he_ put that expression there, that Kisame looks flushed and sweaty and shaky because of _him_.

It helps him set aside both his curiosity and his uncertainty enough to wrap his hand properly around Kisame’s erection and begin stroking.

There is something powerful about this, Itachi realizes, letting his free hand roam over the straining muscles of Kisame’s stomach and chest. There is something riveting about the fact that Kisame cannot keep his hips still, the way his hands clench the sheets too tightly. There is something arousing about the way Kisame’s breath is ragged and harsh, the groans that vibrate deep in his chest, the way he gasps out Itachi’s name as he comes. 

Itachi watches intently as Kisame slumps back against the headboard, gasping. Absently, he brings his hand to his mouth to lick at the come covering it. It is salty and almost bitter and not altogether pleasant, and Kisame (his eyes open again) makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a chuckle at the sight of Itachi’s face. Itachi shrugs and finishes cleaning his hand off on the other man’s shorts.

“Itachi,” Kisame says, protesting, but doesn’t try to stop him.

Itachi stops anyway, realization of what they’ve just done jolting through him like a shock. He pulls his hand back, and it is shaking. He swallows hard.

He just had _sex_. (Or something like it.) He just had sex _with Kisame_. It felt good, far better than he had ever imagined. It felt good…and already the dozen or so reasons why it was probably a bad idea are spinning through his mind. This is so much more complicated than the revelation that they are _friends_ \- 

Kisame’s hand closes over his right shoulder, jerking him back to the present, and he realizes that he has been staring at the other man with wide eyes, his hands still trembling. The familiar, comforting gesture somehow wipes out the worries beginning to whirl through his mind, and allows him to take a deep breath and meet Kisame’s eyes more calmly.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know,” Itachi admits then, the words out before he can stop them. “I haven’t- I didn’t know.” He frowns then, feeling that this is probably inadequate as an explanation, but the words he needs won’t come. He feels frustrated. He feels _vulnerable_ , much more so now than before, but he would rather focus on the frustration.

Kisame looks at him quietly for a long moment, his eyes darting around Itachi’s face as if looking for more clues. His hand remains on Itachi’s shoulder, steady as ever and still comforting despite everything. It presses a little against the place where Kisame bit him, and Itachi can feel the slight sting. He swallows.

His partner opens his mouth then to say something, pauses as if rethinking it, and at last says, “You’ll feel better if we get cleaned up.”

“No,” Itachi says then, the word surprising him almost as much as it does Kisame. “No, I-” He frowns, determined that his brain will work this time. He forces himself to meet his partner’s eyes. “I feel good _now_. That’s- That’s what I didn’t know.”

Kisame blinks at him, and then slowly begins to grin a little. “All right,” he says. “Good.” 

Itachi feels a slight smile tug at the corners of his own mouth, and doesn’t fight it. They sit there for a long moment like that, just smiling at each other, and strangely it feels a lot like many of the other evenings they have spent together doing something enjoyable. 

It is a startling realization, one with implications that Itachi isn’t sure he’s ready to think about. So he pulls in a deep, slow breath and lets his eyes close, the smile fading away to be replaced by a tentative calm. Kisame remains silent while he collects himself, and removes his hand from Itachi’s shoulder with a last, quick flash of white teeth only when Itachi opens his eyes again. 

Itachi squints a little as the other man pulls back, but in the next moment Kisame has handed him his glasses, which Itachi slides on gratefully. Clearer sight lets him see the mess they’ve made of both themselves and the bed, though, and he sniffs slightly. It is less pleasant now that he is not immediately involved in the sex that caused it.

“A shower would not be unwelcome,” he decides, and this makes Kisame chuckle. 

“Sure. Mind if I join you?” His partner’s voice is light, but there is an undertone of uncertainty that Itachi doesn’t miss. He shrugs as he gets off the bed, but feels a smile curling at the corner of his mouth again. Kisame, catching the expression and understanding as he always does, smiles in return and follows Itachi into the bathroom.

~~~

Kisame’s tongue, hotter than the water beating down around them, laves the circle of red marks in his shoulder. He seems reluctant to take either his mouth or his hands away from Itachi’s skin. Itachi, unable to stop his own hands from running up and down Kisame’s back and sides and chest, is not inclined to protest.

“I may have lied,” the bigger man says, almost thoughtfully, “when I promised not to bite.”

This time, Itachi’s breath definitely comes out as laughter.

~~~

Movement wakes Itachi later that night. He blinks his eyes open, finding that his head is pillowed on Kisame’s warm, solid chest. They had gone to sleep in Kisame’s (clean) bed, close but not entwined like this, so they both must have shifted in the night. The other man doesn’t seem to mind, though. He is slowly running one hand down Itachi’s back over and over again, brushing through the long, loose strands of his hair.

“Kisame?” Itachi asks, staring at his left hand where it rests against his partner’s bare chest.

“Mm?” Kisame responds, just as quiet.

“How long?”

Kisame’s hand pauses briefly in its movements, but he doesn’t pretend to not understand what Itachi means.

“About two years,” he admits softly, and his hand resumes the slow combing motion.

Itachi blinks, wondering that Kisame kept his desire a secret for so long…that he likely would have gone on keeping it a secret had Itachi not brought the issue up so inadvertently and unexpectedly. 

“Why?” he asks then, still confused.

He feels Kisame’s slight shrug. “It’s like caring. It’s not always that simple. You’re you, and you’re what I want.”

Itachi thinks that Kisame could say more than that, but he understands all too well that it’s sometimes hard to find the words to talk about this, so he doesn’t press. He nods a little.

He senses that Kisame smiles, but also that it fades again. His hand falls still once more on Itachi’s back. “Itachi…”

“Yes?” Itachi whispers. It is only fair.

“Had you really never…?”

It is Itachi’s turn to pause, and swallow, and then nod again.

Kisame is still for another heartbeat, then says “Okay.” His large hand curls through Itachi’s thick, dark hair to rub at the back of his neck.

“Get some sleep, Itachi,” Kisame says then, even more quietly. 

Itachi sighs, relaxing into the touch, and lets his eyes fall closed without another word. He is asleep five breaths later.

~~~

When Itachi wakes again Kisame is asleep and it is still dark outside, though something tells him that sunrise is not too far off.

Gently pulling himself from Kisame’s arms does not disturb the other man, so Itachi pulls on his glasses and whatever of his clothing comes first to hand, and slips out of the room.

The roof is not supposed to be accessible to guests of the hotel, but Itachi does not let that stop him.

The eastern horizon is indeed grey with the first hints of morning, and the warm, heavy night air is relatively pleasant compared to the recent daytime temperatures. Itachi curls up well away from the roof’s edge and stares out at the slowly lightening sky with dark eyes.

He lets the events of the previous evening replay in his mind, distanced as much as he can manage from his immediate feelings.

It is a complication, or at the very least it _could_ be a complication, and with the end of all this coming soon, he cannot afford complications.

That is what the analytical part of his mind tells him.

Another part of his mind tells him (correctly, he suspects) that ignoring their mutual attraction will do nothing to change either his own or Kisame’s feelings about the matter. It would certainly make things more tense and awkward.

A third, quiet part of his mind wakes memories of his day spent with the crows, and his conclusion that they were much the better for having family and friends and-

He is not a crow, but he acknowledges that maybe it is time to stop denying that Kisame is an important part of his life. The crows greet his partner as they would a flockmate, and they are not wrong to do so.

He does not know for sure how Kisame will behave now that they have slept together, but after their quiet conversation during the night, Itachi suspects that the other man will also wish for this to be as uncomplicated as possible. That quiet part of him thinks that, yes, this is certainly another level of intimacy up from friendship…but will dealing with whatever comes really be so different had they not acknowledged this?

Itachi doesn’t know, but he suspects that it is partly up to the two of them.

His body, remembering the touch of Kisame’s hands and the feel of the other man’s against him, makes the point that perhaps he has been missing out on something. At least, now that there is someone he is comfortable sharing that with, he would be missing out not to explore it further.

Itachi swallows, and finds it hard to contradict that thought either. They may not have much longer, but it would still be nice to…experience whatever of this he can before it is over.

He takes a slow, deep breath, and then another.

In the end, it is not so difficult to make his decision. Kisame is important to him, they are close physically now as well as in other ways, and Itachi wants that physical closeness as much as he wants the rest of it. Their time is certainly limited, but they both knew that anyway. They will do what they need to do, in the end, but the end has not come just yet.  
Itachi takes one more breath, and then uncurls and rises, sneaking back down into the hotel. It is time for Kisame to hear Itachi’s story.

Mind and heart calmer than he expected, Itachi returns to their room to wait quietly for his partner to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the nail polish scene must go to [Hokuto](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/pseuds/Hokuto), for commenting on it back when I first mentioned it in corvus, which subsequently inspired me. ^_^b
> 
> Second part next week (and from Kisame's POV!).
> 
> Questions/comments are welcome as always!


	2. 101.5 (Kisame)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying good-bye a second time is hard, but this time it isn't forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a little something from Kisame's POV. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Please read this between scenes 101 and 102 of corvus.**

Kisame watches Itachi move around the small kitchen, graceful as ever even in the process of doing something so mundane as cooking dinner. His long, dark hair is pulled back into a loose braid, and dark-rimmed glasses frame black eyes that show no sign of having shed tears just a couple of hours before.

Itachi cries the same way he does everything else of importance in his life: quietly, wholeheartedly, and without shame.

Kisame respects that about the younger man.

He is glad now that he went with Itachi down to the river. He hadn’t known where it was that his friend had intended to go when he offered to go along, just that it was somewhere unpleasant. When he had realized that Itachi meant to go back to the place where he had drowned his cousin, Kisame had almost hesitated, almost stopped well away from the river to let Itachi go on his own. This has always been Itachi’s guilt, the centerpiece of his nightmares, and Kisame felt strange intruding on that.

Now, though, he realizes that it was a bit cathartic for himself as well as for Itachi. He is the one who has watched Itachi struggle with his cousin’s death for a decade, after all, although it is only recently that he really understood how fully that event had driven Itachi.

The smell of frying food fills the air and Kisame sits back in his chair a little to enjoy it, pulling his thoughts away from this afternoon. Cathartic though it might have been, it had also been unnerving to see Itachi break down like that. Kisame is glad that the other man is back to normal. Itachi is making them okonomiyaki with crab, a dish that suits both of their tastes nicely. Why cabbage is one of Itachi’s favorite foods has always been beyond Kisame, but it’s good enough in okonomiyaki so he isn’t inclined to complain.

He shifts in his chair again. Part of him is still convinced that he shouldn’t have accepted Itachi’s offer of a place to stay for a few days. It is dangerously comfortable and familiar, sharing living space with his former partner, but this is a qualitatively different situation than before.

Itachi has his life back, and Kisame…well, he is now what Itachi accused him of being so many years ago at their first meeting: a mercenary with no goal and no direction.

Itachi was right about a lot of things, Kisame thinks, the thought falling somewhere between wry, bitter and resigned.

He grimaces, and turns his gaze away from the younger man’s slender back. All that aside, this is the first time that living in the same space is completely a voluntary choice, and not backed by orders from Akatsuki. It feels more meaningful, somehow, more intimate, no matter how Kisame tries to tell himself that it’s the same as it always was.

A plate full of food appears on the table, and Kisame looks up at Itachi, pulled from his uncertain thoughts.

His gaze is returned calmly.

“I am not the only one who thinks too much sometimes,” he tells Kisame softly.

He agrees with a wry chuckle, but freezes mid-laugh as Itachi reaches out and frames his face with both hands. Kisame can’t help but blink, wide-eyed; it is the first time they have really touched since reuniting two evenings ago. Certainly it is the first time either of them has deliberately invoked the intimacy they shared in their last month or so together.

They remain that way for several long heartbeats, Kisame feeling lost and Itachi looking contemplative. Then the dark-eyed man leans over and kisses him.

It is the first time they have kissed.

It is soft, and brief. Itachi pulls back before Kisame gets over his surprise enough to reciprocate.

Their eyes meet again and they share a long, breathless moment before Kisame reaches up to cup Itachi’s face and pull him down again, and Itachi slides his hands back into Kisame’s hair and follows without resistance.

He kisses Itachi slowly, deeply, showing him how. Itachi learns quickly, curling their tongues together when Kisame coaxes his lips apart. He feels more than hears the moan that vibrates low in Itachi’s throat, his hand curved as it is along the side of the smaller man’s neck.

It is a very long moment before Itachi draws away, lingering even as he does.

“Dinner,” he whispers, his voice even deeper than usual and rough with the desire flushing his cheeks.

Kisame has to close his eyes against the tempting sight and take a couple of deep breaths before he can say “All right,” instead of what he wants to say, which is “Let’s skip dinner.”

It does smell good, though, and Itachi has already turned away. He stays at the stove getting his own food for a minute longer than is strictly necessary, and Kisame suppresses a grin. The other man is perfectly composed by the time he returns with his own plate of food, of course. They eat in companionable silence, neither feeling the need to waste time on idle talk.

The promise of _touch_ hangs in the air between them, almost tangible. Kisame swallows hard in between mouthfuls, not looking at the other man, and eats a little faster.

~~

They have shared Itachi’s large bed for the past two nights, but each kept to their own side as they slept.

Now, they lie tangled together in the middle, lying on their sides naked and pressed close. Kisame lets the hand not supporting Itachi’s head and neck weave through the man’s long, dark hair, the strands like coarse silk against his skin. He hopes, in the back part of his mind that has any room for thought, that Itachi never cuts his hair.

Itachi groans into their kiss, his normally deep voice dropped even lower in arousal, and it pulls a shiver and an answering sound from Kisame’s throat. The sight of Itachi like this, flushed and wanting, dark eyes bright with desire, his body moving in perfect accord with Kisame’s, is still new, still novel, even though they were lovers for nearly a month before parting ways. That short time was not enough for Kisame to entirely move beyond the aloof young man who had never shown so much as a passing interest in sex for the majority of the ten years they had known each other.

Not that he is complaining.

Itachi’s tongue, already clever at kissing, navigates Kisame’s sharp teeth carefully, brushing by them with the just the barest hint of pressure, not quite enough to break the skin, and damn him if it doesn’t make Kisame _want_ to bite, just a little, just enough to add the copper-tang of blood into their kiss.

“Am I making you a liar again?” Itachi asks, drawing back just enough to murmur the amused question against his lips.

“Yes,” Kisame growls, and shifts so that he can kiss his way down the smaller man’s throat to his shoulder, and then gives in to the urge. Itachi hums and writhes against him as his teeth break skin, not too deep or hard, just enough to draw bright points of red to stain pale skin. Kisame licks at the wound, feeling one of Itachi’s hands card through his hair, encouraging.

Itachi’s hand drags from his hair down his neck to his shoulder then and pushes, urging Kisame onto his back. He goes without resistance, and Itachi insinuates himself on top of Kisame with a motion that makes both men groan as their erections line up again, sliding hot and hard and slick against each other.

“Kisame,” Itachi says then, deliberately, because he knows it will make Kisame’s hips jerk harder against him. He learned very quickly what Kisame likes and doesn’t like, and the younger man’s voice like this, deep and dark and just a little rough, is definitely something he likes.

“Nnn,” Itachi groans, less deliberately, and lets his legs fall open, his knees pressed to the bed on either side of Kisame’s hips for better leverage. The smaller man pushes himself up a little, hands braced on Kisame’s chest, and their eyes meet.

“Kisame,” Itachi says again, softer, almost a question but not quite.

He grins and reaches up to tangle his hands in Itachi’s hair again. The long strands fall around them, feathery and midnight black.

“Anything,” he murmurs against Itachi’s mouth as the other man leans down for another kiss. He means it, too. He’s never been particularly picky about sex. A willing partner was often hard enough to come by, given that he’s not the most attractive of men, so it never seemed worth narrowing his opportunities further. And now…now, with Itachi, the sex has all been amazing in spite of how simple it has been, he has felt no need or desire to press for more.

Itachi pulls away from their kiss then, one hand leaving Kisame’s chest to grope across the bed even as his mouth works its way back to Kisame’s ear and the slowly down his neck. Kisame barely hears the sounds indicating Itachi has opened the lube again, between the groans escaping his throat and his pulse pounding as loudly as it is in his ears. He is expecting a newly-slick hand between them, then, swallows against the thought of Itachi’s slim, clever fingers closing around both of them to tease and pull.

Instead, Itachi pulls one of Kisame’s hands from his hair and spreads the lube around two of his fingers.

Kisame blinks his eyes open at that, confused. Itachi meets his gaze, his dark eyes calm and steady as he leans forward again, bracing himself with one hand against the bed and using the other to guide Kisame’s hand behind him, down along his back to the curve of his ass and lower…

Kisame freezes, eyes going wide. “Itachi…you want that?”

This is something they haven’t explored yet. They tried a number of different things in bed during their previous month together, but penetration had never come up, and Kisame had begun to assume that Itachi just wasn’t interested.

He supposes he should know better by now than to assume anything about Itachi.

“Yes,” Itachi says simply, “but just this, tonight.” His fingers wrap briefly around the two of Kisame’s that he has slicked with the lube. “Nothing more.”

Kisame swallows, keeping his hips still by a great effort of will and manages a nod. “Okay,” he gets out after swallowing again, letting his hand move to find Itachi’s entrance. He trusts Itachi not to ask for something he doesn’t want, or to tell him if anything is wrong.

He goes slowly, working one finger in carefully, feeling his own erection throb at the way Itachi’s eyes fall closed and his mouth falls open, panting at the unfamiliar sensation. There is a bit of tenseness in his face, for the slight discomfort, but he pushes into the touch and makes no move to pull away.

/Slowly,/ Kisame reminds himself, swallowing again.

He takes his time, enjoying the way Itachi slowly loosens around his finger, slowly relaxes into the light circling and stroking inside him, and is soon arching harder into Kisame’s touch, asking for more with a moan as his only verbal encouragement.

It’s more than encouragement enough for Kisame. He is caught up in the thought of what this will do to Itachi, of watching the younger man fall apart above him, of seeing him lost in a pleasure more intense than anything he’s felt so far. He is caught up in the thought that Itachi _trusts him_ with this.

Bracing Itachi’s hip with his free hand, he works his second finger in even more slowly, his hand steady and controlled even though his breath is ragged and harsh, his eyes fixed on Itachi’s face. He eases Itachi into the stretch of this, and then works both fingers deeper, searching for his prostate.

Itachi makes an indescribable noise when he finds it, broken and wanton and _needy_ and gods help him but Kisame almost comes just from hearing it. The younger man writhes above him, graceful somehow even in this, his hands braced trembling against Kisame’s chest, his head thrown back and his face twisted up into a beautiful mask of ecstasy. He is shaking, and trying to push back onto Kisame’s fingers in spite of it, and Kisame suspects that neither of them are going to last much longer.

He is right. Itachi’s hands on his shoulders tighten with bruising force as he comes, a low, thick cry falling from his mouth as his body arches hard, pulled tight in overwhelming pleasure. Kisame feels himself groan at the sight of it, pulling him close to the edge. When Itachi collapses on top of him, Kisame can’t help but press his hips up into Itachi’s stomach.

Another groan falls from Itachi’s lips, in between harsh panting breaths, and he gropes drunkenly between them with a trembling hand.

“No,” Kisame moans gently, “it’s okay.” Itachi’s hand is stubborn, though, nevermind that the younger man’s eyes are completely unfocused still with the aftershocks of his own pleasure. So Kisame curls his hand around Itachi’s and both around his erection. It only takes four strokes, and he lets his own mind go blank with the pleasure not just of this, but of Itachi so thoroughly shattered and draped bonelessly over him.

He recovers briefly, just long enough to find that Itachi has in fact fallen asleep, his face still pillowed on Kisame’s chest. Kisame allows himself to grin, just a little, and shifts them both into a slightly more comfortable position. Then, he allows himself to drift off as well.

~~

He wakes first, some undetermined amount of time later. There is a clock somewhere, but he feels too lazy to look around for it. It doesn’t matter anyway. The sky is still dark outside.

They really ought to clean up, but he is reluctant to wake Itachi, who is still deeply asleep from the sound of his breathing, slow and steady. So instead, Kisame indulges himself again, running a hand through Itachi’s long, thick hair, still spread out loose around them. It falls most of the way to his waist and is rather tangled now.

His mind drifts a bit, so he isn’t entirely sure when Itachi wakes up. The younger man shifts, though, so his deep voice saying, “You like my hair,” is not a surprise.

“Mm,” Kisame says, a little bit embarrassed to have been caught out, though of course Itachi would have noticed. Then, before he can stop the words, he admits, “It reminds me of their wings – the crows’ wings.” It does – coarse but silky, and thick and midnight-black.

He snaps his mouth shut then, frowning at having admitted to such a poetic sentiment. Itachi makes a soft, unidentifiable noise, though, and it distracts Kisame into peering down at him.

The other man’s lips have slipped up into what Kisame can only describe as a delighted smile. As if sensing that Kisame is now blinking at him in surprise, Itachi turns dark eyes up to him and then shifts, sliding up just a little, until his lips are pressed almost to Kisame’s ear.

“That,” he whispers, telling a secret, “is why I grew it long.”

Kisame huffs out a breath of laughter, which is swallowed up when Itachi shifts again and kisses him.

Cleaning up can wait.

~~

They sleep longer after that, and shift apart a little sometime during the night, so that they are sprawled next to each other when Kisame wakes again. Itachi’s sleeping habits seem to have improved, the blue-haired man observes, because usually it was the dark-eyed man who was either awake in the middle of the night or awake first or both.

The first hints of grey are seeping around the edges of the curtains, though the room is still mostly dark. Kisame props himself up on one elbow and watches Itachi, who is curled on his side facing him, his hair still loose and spread out across his back and the pillow. The younger man’s face is a little bit more relaxed in sleep, and the lines around his eyes seem to have eased some since they parted ways.

Kisame thinks that he is not in love with Uchiha Itachi.

He will have to be on his way by tonight, and it might be years before they can see each other again. If they can ever see each other again, for that is no certain thing. That Itachi asked Kisame back into his bed eases some of that doubt, but even if it is something they both want that does not guarantee that it will be possible.

It is not a good time to be in love with Itachi. He is not even entirely sure that he is capable of loving Itachi. Love is not an emotion that has played any large role in his life, not since his very early childhood, and he scarcely remembers that.

So, Kisame thinks, he is not in love with Itachi.

Not yet.

He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that a little bit more time spent in this man’s company might change all that. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that, all his uncertainties aside, he feels very deeply about Itachi, and that affection is certainly part of that feeling.

He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he hopes they _do_ see each other again, and hopes that he will get more time to spend with this beautiful, frustrating, enigmatic man. More time to spend with his _friend_ , because they are certainly that if nothing else.

He doesn’t have any idea how Itachi feels.

When he shifts closer to the other man, though, and Itachi just relaxes down deeper into sleep, Kisame finds that none of it really matters all that much.

He settles in, lets his eyes close, and drifts back into sleep.

~~

They stay in bed most of the morning, exploring each other slowly and quietly, wrapped up in the dim golden light creeping around the edge of the curtains and distanced from outside noise. It is steadying, somehow, and Kisame is able to put his uncertain speculations from the darker hours aside. This, whatever it might be, is enough.

With the clock edging towards noon they finally get out of bed and cleaned up properly. Itachi brushes one last kiss to his mouth and runs a hand through his damp hair just before they leave the bathroom, and then withdraws into himself a little. He puts a bit of space between them, settling on his glasses, dressing, and pulling his hair back, and Kisame smiles slightly and doesn’t push. He had learned early after they began sleeping together that Itachi, for all his willingness to be intimate, also needs his space, and sometimes has moods where he simply isn’t interested in being touched. That’s fine with Kisame, and he now has many new hours’ worth of very pleasant memories to enjoy during the time they will be apart.

They eat, and then spend the afternoon on Itachi’s couch, shoulders just barely brushing, watching a martial arts tournament taking place in Wind Country. Itachi makes disparaging remarks about the form and style of several of the competitors, including a couple that Kisame is rooting for, so Kisame makes sure to point out any flaws in technique of those that Itachi favors. Itachi smiles, dark eyes flashing with amusement.

This, Kisame thinks, swallowing a little against the familiarity of it and turning his eyes away from Itachi, is going to be harder to walk away from than the sex.

~~

He does walk away, though, with a promise that Itachi will look after himself and Kisame will do the same. He can admit to feeling just a little bit lonely as he turns the corner at the end of Itachi’s street, but cheers himself with the thought that he can soon spend several months with the sharks, if only he can make it south.

Given that he is now well-rested, fed and healed, he has no trouble doing so, and settles into a small but serviceable shack on a lovely tropical island. He strips down to his underwear and heads for the water with a welcome grin, and finds that the loneliness is gone. Replacing it, somewhere in the back of his mind, is Itachi’s voice saying, “ _You could try the third option_ ,” and the tiny, wondering thought that that suggestion sparks. That’s enough to think on for now.

And he knows that, when the time comes, he’ll see Itachi again.

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I was out of town over the weekend and have since been distracted by the Olympics. ^_^ Hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> Notes:  
> -According to the trivia under his entry on the Naruto wiki, one of Itachi's favorite foods is cabbage. I don't ask.
> 
> -[Okonomiyaki](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Okonomiyaki).
> 
> -I can't seem to write these two in a relationship where Kisame doesn't have a thing about Itachi's hair. To be fair, Itachi does have really nice hair. |D
> 
> -Romance and emotions with these two are difficult, but I hope I managed to not cross the line and go too far with it. ^_^;;
> 
> So, there it is. I hope everyone reading has enjoyed both corvus and this little extra bit! Thanks so much again to everyone who has read, left kudos and commented! I really appreciate all of it. :)


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